I found this today and think, nay, know that it is true. Your home is an expression of one's self. One's taste and what you think is beautiful. Where we live now is no exception (have I mentioned that Joel's grandparents basically have an art gallery for a home?). It's a way of establishing a place in the world. Your own little corner of the Universe. Claiming ownership. And of nesting. Im a nester. Who likes pretty things.
Being lucky enough to live in our (Grandparent Harris') condo is, well, amazing. The one thing I am missing here (apart from friends) is my compulsion for adding my own flair to, well, everything. Because, well, the Grandparents have the condo beautifully furnished. And money for the purpose of adorning our abode in my fashion is not exactly abundant. Normally not a big deal. But today I perused some DIY holiday decor and am aching for some holiday decorations. For now I will just dream about them. And dream of the day that we have a home of our own and how it will be an organic expression of us that will change with our family.
Basically, I am whining because I want a beautifully decorated Christmas tree and a quaint entry or great hall that leads to a garland strewn staircase. With vintage ornaments hung from everywhere and fresh fruit wreaths. Is that asking too much?
Also, I really like the idea of home being where your art is.